


Summer of Smut 1: Mouse and Saladin

by JoAsakura



Series: Summer of Smut 2019 [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 15:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19337419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAsakura/pseuds/JoAsakura
Summary: I took a bunch of smutty prompts. These are those stories. Prompt was "ancient tomb + size difference"





	Summer of Smut 1: Mouse and Saladin

“When Starke told me that security in the tombs had been breached, I wondered who could have been so clever, or so foolish,” Saladin growled as he holstered his sidearm. “I should have guessed.”

Mouse peered up at the grim, stony visage of Felwinter, then turned, green eyes luminous in the gloom. “You use the same password for everything and you haven’t changed it in two hundred years,” he said blandly. “’I less than 3 Efrideet’ with a capital E.”

“What are you doing here, Mouse?” Saladin coughed, immediately changing tack. “And out of kit to boot.”

“Serenity picked it out for me, you like?” Mouse did a little twirl in the worn leather jeans and thick, draped sweater. “And I’m out of kit because I’m not here as a titan or a sunbreaker or a guardian,” he closed the distance to Saladin, boots tapping softly on the dusty stone floor. “I’m here as a man you said three words to the entire time you were in the Tower for the last Banner. ‘FINISH THEM, TITAN!’ if I recall.” He growled in a terrible impression of the other Guardian. Mouse stood a head shorter than the Iron Lord and splayed one pale, violet hand on Saladin’s cold metal chest plate as he stared up at the old wolf. “Did I miss a memo that we weren’t on speaking terms?”

“Yes, well…” Saladin took Mouse’s wrist and gently pulled it from his chest, running his thumb over the shifting patterns of light beneath the fragile Awoken skin. “I felt as if perhaps we… if you might be misunderstanding the parameters of our relationship.”

“Again, your password is _I heart Efrideet_ ,” Mouse said softly, letting Saladin slowly walk him back to the wall. “I’m pretty sure I know where I stand with you, and that’s fine.” He watched the older titan’s grim expression soften, a faint red flush of embarrassment on his dark face. “It’s enough.”

Saladin loomed over him, pinning that one narrow wrist to the wall while he dragged his other armoured hand through Mouse’s hair, pulling his head back. He growled into the kiss, sharp teeth catching the swell of the smaller Titan’s lower lip.

Mouse fisted his free hand in the fur collar of Saladin’s cloak, grinding against the other man’s armoured thigh with a whimper in the back of his throat. “Don’t leave me hanging, ok?” He laughed hoarsely as Saladin let go of his wrist and hoisted Mouse up so the sunbreaker could wrap his legs around the old wolf’s waist, both hands now wrapping around Saladin’s neck as they kissed.

“I have it on good authority you can take care of yourself, Guardian,” Saladin rasped. “Are you eating? You barely weigh as much as your armour.”

“Don’t gloat about your strength, old man,” Mouse lightly bit Saladin’s lip and tugged the flesh between his teeth. “ _Show me your light_.” He added in that terrible impression again.

Saladin snorted, walking them up a short stairwell before unceremoniously dumping Mouse on the floor. “I do not sound like that,” he said, imperious as he stared down at the unrepentant titan sprawled on his floor. “Are you going to just lie there, or are you going to take off your clothes, Titan?”

Mouse hauled himself up and made a great show of peeling off the layers of clothing. The room was a small office, logs burning in one of the temple’s omnipresent fireplaces, and a desk scattered with datapads and actual old paper covered in Saladin’s illegible scrawl.  The firelight cast a golden sheen on his violet skin as he finally toed out of his boots, and the flickering shadows made the tattoos on his arms dance. “Better?”

“You are so beautiful,” Saladin dragged him close, kissing Mouse again as his armoured hands ran along vulnerable, bare flesh. “You’re such a troublemaker that sometimes I forget how fragile you seem like this.” Very gently, he turned Mouse around, pushed him over the desk with cautious, but inexorable strength. “Here.”

Mouse watched him through the curtain of his amethyst hair, making an irritated noise when the old wolf only undid his own armour enough to pull his cock free. Stel and Starke were nowhere to be seen, but Saladin clearly got something lube-adjacent from his Ghost’s storage, slick metal and rubber fingers sliding cold into Mouse’s rear. “Fuck,” the younger Titan hissed as he sprawled over the desk, Saladin pressing in deeper. “Cold.”

“You’re Awoken. I know for a _fact_ you have a much broader temperature comfort range than a human,” Saladin smirked, free hand pressing down on the small of Mouse’s back as he twisted his fingers. “You’re just spoiled.”

Mouse lifted on his toes, fingers digging at the desk. “ _Maybe_. Maybe I deserve it a little… _hhhhh_ … a little bit?” He couldn’t stop the disappointed sound in his chest when Saladin withdrew his fingers, but they were immediately replaced by the hard-velvet head of the older man’s cock. “You know. Of Spoilage. _Spoiling_.”

Saladin huffed a laugh, teasing for a moment before thrusting in, deep enough that the metal and rubber of his suit met the bare flesh of Mouse’s rear and thighs. Out slowly, then back in like a fatal blow until they found a rhythm together, metal-clad hands digging into exposed flesh. The heavy desk clattered and rocked as Saladin pounded Mouse against it, and the younger Titan’s nails burned solar-tinged gouges into the smooth wood, bare feet scrabbling against the polished floor.

Saladin came hard in him, with a guttural bark, and reached around only then to stroke Mouse, rough and brisk with armoured fingers, his own thrusts slowing, cock twitching out the last hot spurts inside.

Without pulling free, Saladin hauled Mouse upright and perched himself on the edge of the desk so the smaller Titan was in his lap, back arched against Saladin’s chest, now stroking himself as the old wolf balanced them.  He came with a soft hiss of pleasure, come splattering his own belly and running across the gilded filigree of Saladin’s armour. “Oh, _skies_ , yeah.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t speak to you in the tower,” Saladin’s rough voice vibrated against the side of Mouse’s throat as the old lord carefully let him down. His face was buried in Mouse’s hair, and he ran his hands across bare, violet skin. “I _do_ care about you.”

“I know,” Mouse answered softly, eyes closed. There was the sound of the fire, of Saladin’s breathing, and the sound of metal and skin. “And no matter what happens, I care about you too.”


End file.
